


Things Can Only Get Better (The Flying Fur remix)

by Daegaer



Category: RH Plus, Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Crossover, Humor, M/M, Police, Politics, Psychic Abilities, Vampires, Werewolves, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 19:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20452718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Werewolves. Why did it have to bewerewolves?





	Things Can Only Get Better (The Flying Fur remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Ganesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Things Can Only Get Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/167737) by [Lady_Ganesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh). 

> Thank you to my wonderful beta-reader, Scribblemoose!

"Sato is in deep with foreign elements," the new Chief of Police said. He frowned at the papers laid out before him and picked up the cup of tea. "I assure you, Takatori-san, it is in hand and will be dealt with."

Mamoru nodded, telling himself not to smile ingratiatingly. Superiors did not smile at those called in to give an account of problems. It didn't matter that Michitaka's current problem was clearly that he thought Mamoru was too young to hold any government position; was a particularly terrible choice as Minister for Justice and was the sort of delinquent young man who a respectable Tokyo police officer would never vote for in a thousand years. It was quite impressive that he managed to get all of that into the way he held his cup. It must come of having had a good upbringing. He wondered if he should outright say that he considered Michitaka far too young to hold a responsible position too. It would be interesting to find out the proper upper middle class response to a clear insult.

"Thank you, Michitaka-san," he said instead. "I have every confidence in you."

When the meeting was finally over he rested his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. The police knew nothing about Sato's people trafficking, that was clear. Yet another criminal who seemed to be untouchable by the law. 

"What do you think?" he said, hearing the door open behind him.

"I think that idiot should have stayed in university, and finished his PhD in bullshit criminology like he wanted to," Nagi said. "I'd have read it – I like bad crime novels, they're relaxing."

Mamoru snorted with dry laughter. "I'm sure he feels he's serving society in his role. You know our grandfathers were friends? His father thought mine was a piece of shit, though."

"Which father?" Nagi said meanly, and then put a hand on Mamoru's shoulder in what might, Mamoru thought, be an apology. "I'll deal with Sato. Relax."

"I should give Michitaka a chance to –

" – fail."

" – prove himself," Mamoru said. "You're such a cynic."

"When," Nagi said, "has cynicism ever failed me? Michitaka's book smart, we're _actually_ smart. I'll get rid of this piece of shit and his foreign contacts and Michitaka can go back to playing cops-and-robbers."

Mamoru captured his hand and pulled it to his lips. Wonder of wonders, he thought, as Nagi didn't immediately pull away. "Oh, give the man a week or two. Just keep Sato under observation. I don't want to run _another_ Chief of Police off too soon."

"Fine," Nagi said, in the tone that meant _I am never, ever going to tell you how I actually feel_ as he briefly stroked a thumb across Mamoru's cheek. "You're down to visit his territory in two weeks. I'll give him that long."

* * *

Two weeks later, having accepted an invitation to a perfectly charming and ordinary old-fashioned police station in the suburbs, Mamoru was cursing all departments of the Japanese police, both urban and rural. He threw in curses against his own family, his father, his supposed father, his brothers, his grandfather, the entire government of Japan past present and future, his friends and, in particular, himself. Why, he thought, did he ever, _ever_ disagree with Nagi about who should be immediately killed?

Out loud he said, very quietly, "Is help on the way, do you think, Michitaka-san?"

"I'm sure it is," Michitaka muttered, his ear pressed to the broom closet door. He shot a look back at Mamoru. "You _killed_ those men, Takatori-san."

"They had _guns_," Mamoru whispered. "They were trying to _shoot_ us. They shot everyone else in the room. That poor girl!"

"You had concealed weapons!" Michitaka hissed in outrage, "And you took one of them out with a pen through the eye! You're nothing better than a – a gangster, Takatori Mamoru."

"At least I was effective! I thought you were dealing with Sato? Those were his men! And I suppose the one who got away was one of the foreign criminals – did he look like an Eastern European, do you think?"

Michitaka looked at him like he was insane. 

"How is anyone supposed to tell an Eastern European from any other sort of European?" he asked.

Before Mamoru could answer, a long drawn-out noise wavered up from somewhere in the police station. It sounded like all the worst films Mamoru had ever watched with Yohji put together, with an overlying air of horribly realistic nature documentary to make the hairs on the back of his neck rise up.

"Dogs," he said. "They have dogs. Do you think they want to feed us to the hounds?"

Michitaka rested his head on the door, then looked at him despairingly.

"Takatori-san," he said, professional politeness back like a shield, "I'm not sure that's a dog."

"What else could it be?"

Michitaka said nothing. He wet his lips and looked away. "There's always the possibility of a werewolf," he said at last.

"Bullshit," Mamoru snapped, aware he was confirming every gangster stereotype. Then he got a good look at Michitaka's face. Oh. Oh, shit. He was sleeping with a blasted telekinetic and he told someone that weirdness was impossible? "Not bullshit?" he said. "What exactly aren't you telling me? Come on Michitaka-san, we don't have time to feel each other out over years and naturally develop trust and friendship. I appreciate that you find me unorthodox and callow –"

"Unorthodox," Michitaka said and almost laughed. "What a word. How applicable to us both – Takatori-san, I – am not unacquainted with some people who would describe themselves as – " He shut his eyes and sighed. " – vampires. If the dead can rise and watch bad television, why can't foreign criminals turn into wolves?"

_You are definitely shitting me_ was not a helpful response, Mamoru told himself. 

"Oh," he managed. Perhaps he could organize getting Michitaka the help he so obviously needed, if they survived.

Further thought was forestalled by something snuffling loudly outside the closet. They both drew back, eyes fixed on the shadow they could see under the ill-fitting door. Mamoru drew one of his remaining darts. Michitaka was desperately fiddling with his phone as a heavy body pushed against the door. 

"Come out," a rough voice said in heavily accented Japanese. "Come out, little police. See _vulkodlak_."

It didn't sound like the voice came from anything that should be speaking any sort of language at all. Mamoru shoved a bottle of spray bleach into Michitaka's hand. Maybe whatever was out there would be blinded and drugged when he darted it. Michitaka showed him his phone. The text message read _Still in back corridor closet. Where U?_

Mamoru shook his head. The bastards had some sort of jamming tech. He'd speed dialed Nagi at the start of this and got no response. Begging imaginary vampires for help was just as useless. The door shook under a blow.

"Come _out_."

The voice was now no more than a rumbling growl. Mamoru signaled Michitaka: Three – Two –  


A loud and strange noise came from outside. There were definitely two sets of horrible growling noises, and yelps, and heavy things hitting other things with loud thumps. Then there was a quiet, polite knock.

"Mister?"

Michitaka sagged. "Yes! It's me – and Takatori-san too. You need to protect him." He slowly opened the door, revealing nothing more sinister than a teenage boy who gave them both a bright smile. 

"Quick now, Mister, and you too, Takatori-san. There are a lot of them and we can't hold them off for all that long."

"What _are_ they?" Mamoru said, looking over at the huge body lying half behind a desk, its brindled fur dark with blood.

"Werewolves," the boy said, as if it were obvious. "Lots of werewolves."

"Oh," Mamoru said. The thing's limbs were long and twisted, and not as dog-like as he'd imagined. "And you are?"

"Ageha. Let's go!"

They followed the boy down the corridor and into what had been the police officers' break room. Out of nowhere a furious mass of fur and muscle shot straight at them, snarling loud enough to have the sound reverberate in Mamoru's head. Ageha outright _hissed_, and Mamoru blinked as he went after it faster than a boy could possibly move and then – the creature shot sideways even faster, its spine crunching as it went, to lie in a twisted whining heap by the wall. Mamoru grinned and turned to see Nagi walk in behind him, his clothes soaked in blood, but obviously unhurt.

"Hey," he said.

"Yeah," Nagi said. "Got the text. I didn't have time to reply. Am I killing the vampire?"

"No!" Ageha and Michitaka chorused.

"How'd you _do_ that?" Ageha added, eyes wide.

"I'm a superhero," Nagi said dryly. He glanced at Mamoru, who felt a quick touch on his hand. "Everyone unhurt?"

"Yeah," Mamoru said.

"Good, because you don't want to know how much it hurts cauterizing werewolf bites with silver nitrate and wolfsbane." Nagi looked at everyone's expressions and shrugged. "European schooling," he said, waving a hand casually at the werewolf stalking them. Its neck broke and it slumped to the floor.

"Takatori-san?" Michitaka asked, in astonished tones as if he had not recently been, Mamoru thought testily, the one texting _vampires_. 

"My bodyguard, Naoe Nagi," he said. "I'll expect a certain amount of discretion about his, um, methods."

"Ah – yes," Michitaka said, as Ageha tried to physically drag him away. "And I from you."

In the next corridor there was an office containing a fight Mamoru couldn't make sense of, seeing only movement, and fur, and under it the suggestion of a person.

"Masakazu-kun!" Ageha yelled, clearly torn between running in and keeping Michitaka safely back.

"Shit," Nagi muttered and stepped into the room, gesturing violently with both hands as if tearing a sheet of rotten cloth. 

The werewolves flew apart, necks snapping. In the middle of the fracas a young man stood, looking furious and very surprised. Mamoru blinked at the sight of definite fangs and what he would have to describe as the remnants of an expression of demonic rage. Now that, he thought, was more like a vampire, except for the pleasant smile that replaced the anger.

"Hey, Ageha-kun! I had this under control, no need to panic. Hi, Mister, who're your pals?"

"There really isn't time for formal introductions, Tamura-kun," Michitaka said. He caught Mamoru's gaze, and looked rather embarrassed. "I must apologise for the informality of my associates," he muttered.

"No need," Mamoru said, fascinated. "I suppose the social niceties aren't as important to the undead."

"Huh," Nagi said. "They're not important to me either, but you nag _me_ to be polite." He flicked a finger, and a werewolf that had been hiding on top of a cupboard was ejected bodily through a small gap in the nearest window, leaving quite a lot of itself still inside.

"Whoa," Masakazu said. "Maybe you don't need the help of a suave and experienced vampire like me if this guy is going to fold, spindle and mutilate all the monsters."

"_This guy?_" Nagi said. "I'm suddenly in favour of the social niceties, bat-boy."

"Hey, the _werewolves_ are the gaijin, do I look like I'm from Transylvania?" Masakazu grinned as Mamoru said,

"You seem oddly all right with the concept of vampires."

"You really don't want to know about some of my classmates at Rosenkreuz," Nagi said. 

"C'mon! Let's find Kiyoi and Makoto!" Ageha said, pulling Michitaka along by the arm again. "We can go for pizza!"

_My head hurts_, Mamoru thought. He really wanted to - damn. Arrange something tasteful and colourful from flowers in seasonal shades. With accents of ferns. Now he _knew_ he was about to start yelling at everyone. Nagi looked at him as if he'd felt some sort of ethereal vibration in the damn Force, which, Mamoru thought, he presumably had. 

"I would never have allowed you to be devoured by monsters," Nagi murmured, leaning in close. It felt good, and precious. "Now pull yourself together and stop acting like a baby." And that felt more like normal.

In the lobby they found three dead werewolves who appeared to have been torn limb from limb, another teenage boy and a man who seemed a little older than Michitaka, carefully cleaning blood off his glasses. Ageha dropped Michitaka's arm and ran over, chattering about fighting werewolves and meeting superheroes, followed by Masakazu. Mamoru watched Michitaka go after them, step by careful step, his eyes on the oldest vampire's face. The vampire smiled sweetly at him, and Michitaka seemed to need to restrain himself from running. Maybe he was seeing vampiric hypnotism, Mamoru thought, just as Nagi all-too-casually leaned against him.

"It wouldn't be cool if I suddenly passed out, so I'm not going to," Nagi said, and sighed very slightly as Mamoru put a supporting arm around him. "I don't suppose you have anything full of carbs or sugar on you?"

"Apparently we're going for pizza. Or we could run away to the other side of the world?"

"The weird shit would follow you. Or me. Can we go further?"

"One of the outer planets?"

"Good idea. Or maybe just home?"

"I'll get Michitaka's friends to give us a ride –"

"Takatori-san!" Michitaka called, gingerly shoving pieces of werewolf aside. "I think – ah, yes. I believe I have found Sato." He looked up at the oldest of the vampires. "He's not in one piece."

"He attempted to shoot Makoto-kun," the vampire said in a mild, quiet voice. "I had to remonstrate with him most severely. I may have lost my temper for a moment or two, but I do assure you that he was not a good person."

Michitaka was silent, then. "I'll have a report on this gang sent to your office as quickly as possible, Takatori-san. I'm sure this case can be considered closed?"

"Yes, indeed," Mamoru said, feeling some of the gloom dissipate at the thought that Michitaka wanted to appear normal just as much as he did. "I'll look forward to reading what you send me. Congratulations again on your appointment, Michitaka-san."

"And you," Michitaka said, a little acidly. "I'm sure we'll work together well."

"Oh yes," Mamoru said, hugging Nagi a little more obviously and smiling at the vampires. "I'm sure we will."


End file.
